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Some just loathe Ecstasy; like the Roman

who turned our Gorgeous Boy of Lust and Rage


into some frail sot. To fear masculine

beauty is to fear the divine. That age


that tried to switch Dion-(bow chicka bow

wow)-ysus with besotted ol’ Bacchus


ended bad. This isn’t heresy. My vow

is still to He Who Swaggers With Quenchless


Thirst. The one god not appeased by widespread

worship, sacrifice or floor pie. Altars


do not sooth him, nor prophets who soothsay.

Only madness in dance, in art, in bed.


No priests or holy laws. Only lovers;

we few who obey when we disobey.